A Lack of Color
by Sourlovers
Summary: He loathes comforting others. But wouldn't you prevent the one that matters the most to you from falling farther into a pit of darkness? Trigger warnings, rated M for a very good reason. Evolving sherlolly. THIS STORY IS PUT ON HIATUS BECAUSE OF SCHOOL WORK. I AM REALLY SORRY BUT THIS HAS TO HAPPEN :(
1. Drugs and shattered teacups

**A Lack of Color**

**He loathes comforting others. But wouldn't you prevent the one that matters the most to you from falling farther into a pit of darkness? Trigger warnings, rated M for a very good reason. Evolving sherlolly.**

"Sherlock, do you have the faintest idea as to what's happening?"

The detective was speechless. He wish he had an answer for his brother. He wish he had a thousand answers right now.

"It's not him. I watched him. The blood, the gore, it was all there. It was all there, Mycroft…"

Sherlock stared into the floor, a cigarette between his hands, long forgotten about. He watched the smoke elevate up and dissolve into the air. Just like he wish he would've done years ago. Disappear. Him and Mycroft were sitting in 221B. Never has he been so scared and, and…guilty. Yes, he felt guilty for finally letting people into his life and making them all a target to a network of horrific murderers that liked to watch his world burn.

"You just killed a man a few days ago, Sherlock. The last thing I need is for you to kill another. The network caused a disturbance in all of London, meaning it is my job to find a way to stop them and-"

Sherlock slammed his teacup into the ground, shattering everywhere.

"Then why the _fuck_ did you bring me back here then, hm? Do you want me to sit here and wait around until I know what's going on?" Sherlock was standing up at this point, looming over Mycroft. His right fist was turning white from the amount of force he was using to clench it. The cigarette in his left was nearing it's end, oh so close to the filter.

Mycroft stood up from his seat slowly.

"You really think I don't have a plan for you, brother dear? I want you to think about the ones you care about. Those you _truly_ care about, Sherlock. Does anyone come to mind that might be in just as much danger as you?"

_Fuck_

"Molly, Mycroft. Molly Hooper." Sherlock was at a low whisper. He was too afraid to say it. He couldn't even look his own brother in the eye when her said her name. It was the first thing he thought of as soon as Mycroft told him. But he put it in the back of his mind, too terrified to think about it.

"Yes, Sherlock. Molly. I need you to take her. Take her far, far, away, to America. New York City specifically. There is said to be a few of his men there, so you must disguise yourselves. Keep an eye on them for me. And for God's sake, Sherlock, protect her like you never want to see a drop of her blood hitting the ground."

Sherlock looked into his brother's eyes. "How long, Mycroft."

"Could be a month or two." Mycroft said, ending the sentence with his gaze to the floor.

"John, Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. What about them?"

"John and Mary will be in America as well. Not far from you, actually. Just outside of Boston. Lestrade will be in Los Angeles. Mrs. Hudson at a retirement complex in Florida. All will have fake names and new appearances, and under my surveillance."

"When do we leave?"

* * *

><p>It's been years since Molly had a panic attack. A true, panic attack. As soon as she saw those dark eyes on the television, she immediately started sweating. As she was walking over to the counter to support her now shaking legs, she started to get heart palpitations. Her vision slowly started to fade as the ringing in her ears increased.<p>

She needed to calm down, But she couldn't. How could anyone stay calm after they know that someone wants them dead? She knew where she hid that bottle months ago. She hid it on herself so it wouldn't remind her of the past. There were a few pills left, that she knew. She would have to ration them out until she could come up with a better plan. But for right now, she mindlessly walked to her office, unlocked her desk drawer, and popped a Xanax.

She didn't know how long she was on the ground against her desk, crying.

"Molly? Molly, please, calm down."

She looked up to see John and Mary. John had his hand out to help her up.

John cleared his throat. "We came here as soon as we could, Molly. We are all sticking together until we know what's going on-."

"We have a spare bedroom, Molly. Mike said to take off all the time you need. Let's go get you some clothes." Mary chimed in.

"Yes, thank you. That would be, that would be great." Molly sniffled while wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She gathered her things and walked out with John and Mary.


	2. The Ghost of Molly's Past

**Wow, I can't believe this got so many follows in 24 hours! This means so much to me since this is my first story. **

**I want to try something different with this...so bear with me. **

**For each chapter, I'm going to give you a song to listen to while reading (If you aren't into that, that's fine). These will be songs that I think set the mood of the chapter. Please Please Please let me know what you think about it. So without further ado...**

**Shake Me Down – Cage the Elephant**

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><p>Molly tossed and turned last night. When she did fall asleep, it was only for an hour or so; it was never a deep enough sleep. Eventually, she gave up and watched the sunrise while eating a bowl of cereal. She was too upset last night to eat and missed out on lunch due to a load of paperwork.<p>

John and Mary ended up staying up late in bed, worrying. Sherlock told him yesterday to pick up Molly and let her stay with them for the night, and that he would have a plan by the morning. John, Mary, and Molly sat in the living room quietly, watching the news when John's phone vibrated.

_Baker Street, at once. –SH_

John cleared his throat.

"Well, looks like he's ready. Better not keep him waiting."

* * *

><p><em>The meeting at Baker Street was fairly uneventful. Sherlock invited Greg, Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson as well as the Watsons and Molly. No one seemed to be opposed to Mycroft's plan. The plan was to leave as soon as possible, and the next plane to New York was leaving in 5 hours. Once they arrive in New York, everyone but Molly and Sherlock will have to catch another plane to their destination. Everyone started to leave the apartment to start packing, and agreed to come back in two hours.<em>

* * *

><p>As soon as Molly closed the door to her apartment, she fell to the ground and started to cry tears of joy. She was safe for now. But no matter how far away she will be from London, she will still feel just as upset, if not more. She's leaving behind a profession she worked so hard for, a great life in the city, and a life without any imminent threat. Now it was being replaced with America and Sherlock. The tears of joy turned into a waterfall of fear.<p>

_No, this can't happen again. This cannot. Happen. Again. _

Her father died when she was in the process of getting into med school. Molly's father was her best friend, partner in crime, and reason why she went to school. She felt lost for a couple of months. She ate less, studied more, and picked up a razor for the first time. The feeling of the cold metal was so surprisingly calming and pleasurable. She never cut her wrists; that would only draw attention. It was usually her thighs and stomach. She was so depressed and anxious all the time. Molly's mum found out by accident one night when she was home on holiday. She accidentally left her razor out on the bathroom sink. Two shrinks later and a prescription for anti-depressants, she was back to her usual self. It's a part of her life that she hasn't thought about for years, and never wanted to think about ever again. But right now, she feels even more depressed than when she was in Uni. Molly could already start to feel the constant anxiety creeping up on her in the back of her mind as she packed her clothes into a suitcase. As she was leaving the bathroom to grab her toothbrush, she looked at her reflection.

Dark bags. pale skin. loss of life in her eyes. It was already starting. Tears started to well up in her eyes before she looked away. With shaking hands, she grabbed the rest of her toiletries, locked up, and returned to Baker Street.

* * *

><p><em>Mycroft hired a team of stylists that set up their equipment in the Baker Street drawing room. Sherlock's hair was cut shorter and dyed to a light red color. Greg's hair was dyed black, as well as Mary's. John chose a dirty blonde with more brown than blonde. Mrs. Hudson insisted that she was fine. Molly went with a dark brown with tints of red. <em>

* * *

><p>Sherlock stayed in his mind palace during the plane ride. He was nervous. Of course he would never admit that to anyone, but he was nervous to be around Molly for so long. He loved the conversations in the morgue and her silence while he worked. She filled the air with comfort. He can't let his emotions get to him while they are on such a crucial mission. But, he can't stop caring about her, and picturing the two of them in domestic bliss. Getting Sunday morning brunch, seeing a Broadway show, laying naked in bed together after-<p>

_No. Stop. What matters right now is her safety. Focus, Sherlock._

On that note, he started to look through an atlas of New York City.

* * *

><p>"Well this is it, I guess. Sherlock, please keep me posted. Greg, Mrs. Hudson, stay in contact as well. Molly, if Sherlock forgets to talk to me, you know what to do." John said with a smile.<p>

Sherlock sighed. "I understand that we are all currently being put into a situation that we have never dealt with before. But, this is for everyone's safety. Do try to enjoy the time away from London. I…wish you all the best of luck. I believe your planes will be leaving shortly"

The group exchanged handshakes and hugs. As Molly and Mary embraced each other, Mary whispered softly into Molly's ear.

"If he is causing you any problems Molly, let us know immediately. Please."

"Don't worry Mary, I will be ok. I promise. Keep in touch."

Molly knew Sherlock wouldn't be the real problem, but that her emotions will be.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not too happy with this one. I'm just setting up a lot of stuff that's going to happen, and I'm writing this story as best as I can. I'm currently sick with a viral infection, so this weekend I will have plenty of time to write. If you have any pointers, please let me know ASAP so I can fix my mistakes. :)<strong>


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